I usually describe my transition to special needs parenting as a series of waves. We went into parenthood with pretty typical dreams in mind–movie nights and family vacations and shared hobbies, but as it became more and more clear that our version of parenthood was going to be anything but typical, it felt as though those dreams were being washed away one by one.
The first few years of Kendall’s life were spent hoping that we would find a solution that would fix the elusive problem and put us all back on track. The lack of diagnosis and constant searching for different treatments and therapies kept some of our “normal” dreams alive…or, if I’m being honest, allowed me to continue to cling to them. Once the neurological disability diagnosis came at age four and we launched into difficult medication trials, it was time to say goodbye to parenthood dreams of teaching her to play the piano, sharing my favorite books, listening to her giggle with her friends during a sleepover, and watching her gain true independence as she grew toward adulthood. I had no idea what to hope or plan for because her prognosis was so unknown.
At some point, though, we started turning the story around to focus on the benefits of this different life. We starting calling attention to the silver linings of our rain clouds.
I don’t remember how it started, but it has evolved to be part of our everyday language. It’s pretty common to hear “silver lining!” called out in our house without any other explanation. A silver lining is, by definition, the positive that can be found in a negative situation, so calling them out when we see them relieves some of the pressure that we often feel as special needs parents. Sure, we have continuous discussions about testing and treatments and support options. But, as I write this, she is struggling to get Sid the Science Kid to play in the PBS Kids app on our iPad, so we clearly don’t need to have a conversation about online bullying, and we’re very glad that we don’t have to navigate when and how to let our young child have a smartphone. Silver lining!
There are many different types of silver linings. Some, like the smartphone example, distract us from her lack of certain skills by focusing on how we get to avoid a difficult piece of modern parenting. Some silver linings help us reframe realities like the long-term commitment of special needs parenting. Most parents think about the moment their kiddos will spread their wings and head out on their own as bittersweet–somewhere between “I don’t know what I’ll do without them!” and “WOOHOOOOO! FREEDOM!” Every time I see a sentimental post or meme about how quickly kids grow up and move on from their parents’ day-to-day lives, I do an internal silver lining call-out. It’s not going to be easy to spend the rest of our lives with a dependent child, but it does mean that I get to spend more time with my girl.
Then there are the bring-a-smile-to-your-face silver linings. Kendall’s emotional development is stalled at a toddler level. Despite all of the extra patience I have to use daily, I have to say that it warms my snuggle-bug soul that my nearly 12-year-old still craves toddler-esque Mommy Cuddles around the clock. And her joyful, innocent approach to the world brings things like her new habit of asking everyone she meets if they like ducks. How can you possibly resist a smile when she asks in her excited voice if you like ducks?!
The silver lining approach helps us to avoid dwelling on things we cannot change and instead focus on the positive sides to this life. It might seem too simplistic, too naive, but at this stage I have fully embraced my inner Pollyanna (easy to do after watching that classic movie on a continuous loop as a child). Engraved in young Pollyanna’s locket was the fabricated-for-Hollywood Abe Lincoln quote “If you look for the bad in mankind expecting to find it, you surely will.” Recognizing silver linings is our version of Pollyanna’s optimistic Glad Game, the game that forced everyone around her to look for the good instead of the bad.
When I began writing about my experiences privately, I told myself that I would start sharing our story with others when I had some ideas for other parents playing the special needs parenting gig. I haven’t found any magical solutions–unless you count wine and travel! Okay, we have a few tricks up our sleeves, but looking for the silver linings is the best answer so far.
Team Kendall 
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